


Standing On The Cliff's Edge, I Will Be Your Safety Net

by katebishoop



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Season/Series 01, Sickfic, Trapped In Elevator, sort of, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katebishoop/pseuds/katebishoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke's dead on her feet, and Bellamy has a plan to get her to rest. But Octavia has a plan of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing On The Cliff's Edge, I Will Be Your Safety Net

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaughingSenselessly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingSenselessly/gifts).



> Spring Fling 2016 gift for [Jade](http://wellsjahasghost.tumblr.com)!

Clarke’s never been squeamish around blood before, but right now she feels like she’s going to throw up.

She’s been trying her best to sanitize the dropship as much as she could since the virus got out of all their systems - or, most of their systems, anyway - but one wet rag can only do so much to wipe up all the blood.

The dropship flap rustles behind her, and _fuck_ if someone shot off their goddamn toe again she swears she’s going to-

“I got those herbs you wanted,” Monty says, shrugging off his pack and pulling out the containers, “Wait- that one’s mine.” He gives her a sheepish grin as he pulls one of them back.

Clarke sighs. “More moonshine?”

“Jasper and I think we can make it _stronger_.”

“Is that even possible?”

“With Jobi Nuts, maybe.” Monty says, then quickly grabs his stuff and heads from the dropship before she can retort. “Finn’s looking for you, by the way!” He calls back to her.

Clarke throws her head back and groans. This day could only get worse, it seemed.

* * *

She’s headed to get some dinner, when she sees the top of Finn’s stupid floppy hair coming towards her. She ducks into tent closest to her, hoping that it was emp-

“Clarke?”

Clarke spins around to find herself face to face with Bellamy. Bellamy, who is currently frozen midway through putting on a shirt.

Her eyes flick down to his abs - for a second, just a second - but he notices, both his eyebrow and the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, lowering his arms. _Why couldn't he have just put the shirt on? Why._

“Hey Monty, have you seen Clarke?” Finn’s voice comes wafting into the tent.

“Dropship the last time I saw her…” As Monty’s voice fades away, Clarke feels her cheeks growing red.

Bellamy shakes his head, a smirk on his face. “So _that’s_ why-”

“How’s your side of camp doing?” Clarke asks, brisk. She’s not doing that right now, not with him.

Bellamy sighs, giving up the teasing, and finally - _finally_ \- shrugs on his shirt. “They’re antsy. I’ve doubled the watch, but given them shorter shifts. I’m trying not to burn them out.”

Yeah, that was a good plan. She was already starting to feel burnt out herself. She went over and sat down in one of the chairs he’d scavenged from the ship - she hated to admit it, but she could barely stand on her own two feet right now.

“The dropship is as clean as it’s going to get.” She informs him, rubbing her hands over her face. “And Monty and Jasper are trying cook up more moonshine, which is about the last thing this camp needs right now.”

She’s expecting him to make some smart retort, like all the worse things that could happen to them: the virus comes back, the grounders attack, the acid of engulfs the camp.

But instead, he just shrugs. “It keeps them from worrying about other things.” He plants his arms on the makeshift table, leaning into it. “Besides, they could use a little stress relief.”

“Retaliation for the bridge will be coming any day now, we can’t have whacked out of their minds really-”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, and he sounds just as tired as she feels. They’ve got the fate of ninety odd people on their shoulders, and it’s taking its toll. “Making it is a distraction, and letting loose a little bit will do them some good. But I’m not suggesting everyone get blackout drunk, or even tipsy. I know we can’t afford that.”

Clarke sighs and leans back in the chair. He’s right. They’ll all go crazy just staring out into the woods, waiting to be attacked. People are jumpy enough as it is. Tensions were already running high thanks to the quarantine, and they don’t need to add fuel to those flames anymore.

“Clarke?”

Her head snaps up to look at him. She doesn’t know how much time has past, how much time they sat in silence, but it’s the longest she’s been still in a while.

“Are you… are you okay?” Bellamy asks, and Clarke feels her cheeks go red. “Like, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like death.”

_“I am become death, destroyer of worlds,” Clarke had said, “It’s Oppenheimer, the man who built the first-”_

_Bellamy rolled his eyes. “I know who Oppenheimer is.”_

She felt like death, too.

“I’m fine,” Clarke says, but when she goes to stand, she wobbles a bit. Bellamy flinches, his hand reaching out and pulling back just as quickly, unsure of what he should do.

“You should try to take it easy,” Bellamy’s voice is low, full of concern and worry. She remembers back in the dropship, that same voice asking her: _you feeling better?_ Like he hadn’t just been coughing up blood himself. “When was the last time you got some sleep?”

The answer to that question? When she was passed out from the virus. That was the last time. But Bellamy didn’t need to know that. His job wasn’t to take care of her, his job - _their_ job - was to take care of everyone _else_. She could handle herself. She's the one thing she knows she can handle.

“I’ll take it easy after the Grounders come,” Clarke says, echoing his sentiment from their conversation at the Unity Day celebration, which already felt like a lifetime ago. A simpler time, when they still had hope for the Ark, hope to avoid war.

Bellamy opens his mouth as if to say something, but just closes it instead. She’s thankful for that, and for how he doesn’t try to stop her as she leaves.

* * *

“ _Clarkeclarkeclarkeclarke_ -”

Clarke’s head snaps up from the sprained ankle she’s tending by the wall to see Monty running frantically towards her.

By the time he stops - hands resting on his knees, panting - Clarke’s already up and alert.

“Monty?” Clarke asks, worriedly - hurriedly. She puts her hands on his shoulder’s to help steady him. “What’s wrong? What’s-?”

“Emergency,” Monty says, between breaths, “Second floor- dropship-”

That’s all the information she needs and then she’s darting across camp - jumping over logs, shoving people out of her - and sprinting into the dropship, flying up the ladder like she weighs nothing, like she’s in zero-gravity.

“What’s-” Clarke looks around the room frantically, her eyes searching.

When her eyes land on Bellamy in the corner - her heart rate speeds ups even more _oh no oh no oh no-_

But then she registers that he looks _fine_ ; he’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed - no visible blood or broken bones. He looks the same as when she last saw him.

She’s relieved - for a split second, her whole body relaxes.

And then she snaps.

“What the _hell_?” He’s pushed himself off the wall, walking towards her; she meets him halfway, an accusatory finger poking him in the chest. “I fucking bolt all the way across camp- because of an emergency, and-”

“The emergency is _you,_ ” Bellamy says. The fact that he seems unaffected by her anger is just plain infuriating to Clarke. “You look like you’re about to collapse any second. You need to rest.”

"I do _not_ need to-" She begins hotly but the relief that had washed over her when she saw that he was okay has dissipated all the adrenaline that had carried her here. She felt her knees wobble, she couldn't keep her arm up anymore, her whole body sagging with exhaustion, her voice too. "- _rest_."

"Yes, rest," Bellamy says. He puts an arm around her waist to help support her. She doesn't even have the energy to protest. She lets him lead her to the side of the room.

He eases her down onto a pallet of furs and she knows that this wasn't there earlier.

"Bellamy?" Yep, she knows where these came from. "What are you going to do for a-"

"Don't worry about me," Bellamy says, pulling out his canteen and setting it down next to her, in case she needs it. "I'll figure something out."

"You don't have to do this all for-"

"You may be a total ass half the time," Bellamy says, jokingly, echoing her words from when something between them had clicked. Then his face gets serious, his eyes boring into hers. "But I need you. We need you here - and you're really here if you're on the verge of passing out any second."

Clarke bites her lip. She's not used to people taking care of her. It's weird. And it's Bellamy - that should be weird, too, right? But it doesn't feel weird to her. It makes sense, knowing the type of person Bellamy is. She catches his eyes dart down to her mouth, and feels an involuntary blush creep up her cheeks-

The hatch in the floor closes behind them with a clang. Bellamy gets up, confused, and muttering to himself. He tries to pull on it - but it won't budge.

"What the fuck," Bellamy kneels down and bangs on the ground. " _Who the fuck-_ "

"Sorry Bell!" It's Octavia's voice that wafts up through the floor. "Monty told me what you were up too. It was a good plan - you should listen to it yourself."

"O - let. Me _Out_."

"Nope!" Octavia's voice was cheery. "We'll let you both out in the morning. You too need rest, and we need fun."

"Octavia - _Octavia_!" Bellamy continues to yank on the door - they must have tied it down to the ladder on the other side, since it technically locks from their side.

Clarke can't help but laugh at this whole situation. Bellamy turns to glare at her.

"How can you laugh about this? They're going to burn the camp down. Or we're going to get attacked-"

"Oh don't get me wrong - I'm worried," Clarke sits up and scoots back so she's leaning against the wall. "But I was going to be here either way, so..."

"Clarke, this isn't funny-"

"Now you know how I feel!" Clarke says, throwing her arms in the air. She's still lacking energy, but she will always have enough in her to banter with him. "Besides, Octavia's right - you need to rest too."

Bellamy looks frustrated - but he always looks drained. He's got worry lines etched onto his face, slumped shoulders, bags under his eyes. He needs this just as much as she does. She's willing to admit that she does, at this point.

This whole thing feels comical to her - unreal, like she still can't believe Octavia just locked her in a room with Bellamy, but. This isn't the worst thing that could happen on the ground. Like, she could be locked in with Finn, for example.

Clarke lifts herself up a little to drag one of the furs out from under her, and tosses it next to her. "Here. Let's just _try_ to get some sleep. Make the most of this, you know?"

Bellamy looks at her like he can't tell if she's being serious or not - like he's waiting for the moment she tells him this is an elaborate prank she orchestrated to get back at him.

But she just lies down on her pallet, and that's all the answer he needs.

He lies down on the fur she tossed out for him, next to her and - oh.

They have this whole space, this big old room that once fit fifty of them. She expected him to drag it somewhere else, away from here - not to stay close enough that she could count the freckles on his face.

She's getting the same feeling she did earlier when she saw him without his shirt off and just - nope, she couldn't think about it. If she was going to get through the night, she could think about whatever that feeling was. Nope nope nope.

"I blame you for this," Bellamy says, his voice already caving into sleep.

Clarke snorts. "You started it."

"Irrelevant."

They're quiet for a bit. They're still facing each other, but they're looking anywhere but each other's eyes. She's got her eyes on his chest, and she thinks she feels his eyes on her hair.

When Clarke feels her eyes begin to droop, she looks at him again. She needs to say this before she falls asleep.

"Thank you, Bellamy - just, thanks. For looking out for me." She feels a swell of affection in her chest as his eyes snap to hers, a flush on his cheeks. She has to admit, it's nice for a change, to know that someone is looking out for her like she does for everyone else.

Bellamy shrugs, but she can hear the change in his voice, the warmth - he's not deflecting, he's being sincere. "What're co-leaders for?"

* * *

Clarke doesn't remember falling asleep. She barely remembers anything as she drifts back into consciousness. She just knows that she's had the best sleep she had in ages, and that she's _warm_.

She burrows closer to the source of heat, and when she feels the source of heat pull her closer in return - her eyes snap open, and she remembers everything.

Bellamy. Octavia. Being locked in.

He had been about four feet away last night, but now she was right on top of him. Her head pillowed on his chest, her arm around his waist, her leg hitched over his. His arm was around her back, his face in her hair.

He was still asleep. Thank God, he was still asleep.

Part of her wanted to stay - Bellamy was pure warmth, pure heat; he was solid and comfortable and felt safe - but she couldn't bear to face whatever interaction they would have when he woke up.

Carefully, she extracted herself from his grasp. He reaches out in his sleep, chasing her, but then his hands fall lightly back down. Clarke breathes out a small sigh of relief.

Waking up next to him was something she could get used-

Nope nope nope nope. She was having those thoughts - those feelings again and just - nope. She couldn't think about those right now - they had too much going on, and besides, she doubt they were reciprocated.

 _What're_ co-leaders _for?_

Clarke walks carefully over the hatch. She slowly lifts it, testing it, and sure enough - it's open. She assumes that nothing bad happened in the night if they managed to sleep soundly.

She gets down the latter, and takes one last glance at Bellamy's sleeping form before she shuts the hatch behind her. He could use another hour or two.

"So?"

Clarke jumps and turns around. Octavia's grinning at her brightly - Clarke just blinks at her.

"Did you sleep well?" Octavia's tone let's Clarke know that Octavia already knew the answer to that; she'd seen everything.

Clarke could feel her face get red and hot - and Octavia just laughs, big and roaring.

Clarke hurries away out of the dropship. This is exactly the kind of interaction she had been trying to avoid - fucking Blakes.

"He'll say yes if you asked!" Octavia yells after her.

Clarke doesn't know what she means exactly, but creates this feeling of butterflies in her chest - it reminds of the feeling she got at the Unity Day celebration, when his face was glowing in firelight and he told her she deserved a drink.

But maybe she'll ask, whatever the question is, after the Grounders come.

If they survive, that is.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it Jade!


End file.
